


In Tongues

by crmsndragonwngs



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Graphic Imagery, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 04:59:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6940813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crmsndragonwngs/pseuds/crmsndragonwngs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It speaks in the language of the dead: incomprehensible murmurs, gasping and gurgling with blood.  Takizawa knows the language well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Tongues

He’s a ghost, moving between the bodies on silent bare feet, the swishing of his cloak the only sound along this dead beach. A hand creeps, barely alive, and wraps feeble fingers around his ankle. He stops, looks back at the broken creature beneath him. It’s neither ghoul nor human, or at least unrecognizable as either, and when its lips move it speaks in the language of the dead: incomprehensible murmurs, gasping and gurgling with blood. Takizawa knows the language well.

He places his foot over the creature’s head, and the skull gives easily beneath his weight. He tells himself that it was a gesture meant only to remove the hand from his ankle, and moves on.

Further up the beach, the silence is perforated by far away battle, only just now within earshot. He stops again, cocks his head to listen, and decides to move away from it for now. He likes to pretend he is the only person left on the planet alive, a wraith among the rotting mounds that are nameless and will remain so, unmissed because those that would miss them are rotting too. It is peaceful, in its way, and he allows a small smile to cross the blackened scars that replaced his lips so long ago. It’s not often he gets to enjoy peace, and he doubts that the moment will last much longer. He can smell humans, alive and electrified, sprinting over the hill with quinques drawn and flashing in the moonlight.

He’s a ghost, moving calmly and silently among the dead, belonging simply because he is dead himself, from wounds sustained so very long ago. But when he hears the humans stop behind him, and the small voice that murmurs a name he hasn’t heard in years, he feels a heavy thud echo in the empty vessel between his ribs.

“Seidou.” Akira calls, and he turns, blackened scars stretching across yellowed teeth as another language sparks in her eyes. The language of fear.

He knows this one better than the last.

**Author's Note:**

> Short fic is short. This is seriously just a drabble, nothin' to see here. I wrote it while waiting for the clouds to clear up so that I can see Mars, but that doesn't look like it's going to happen. The infamous Red Planet is supposed to be closer to Earth than it has been in 10 years, and of course it's cloudy. Oh well.
> 
> EDIT: Corrected one hell of a mistake. How did no one notice that?


End file.
